The voice came out of nowhere. I was momentarily confused, blinking in the dimly lit bathroom.
Kati and I had flown into New York on the red eye from San Francisco and it was happy hour. In order to equalize the time difference and not be hit with a wave of jet lag, we decided the best course of action was to get terrifically drunk with my old high school mate Logan and power through the night.
I notice a pair of high tops in the stall nearby. That must be where the voice came from. But why was he trying to strike up a conversation? Did he need toilet paper? Is this just New York?
“Hey,” I casually answer.
“What’s up?” came his reply.
Well, this was certainly unexpected. Was there some protocol going on here that I was not aware of? It couldn’t be a drug deal. Right? Maybe he was coming onto me.
Again I circle back to my distinct lack of sleep and how confused I already felt. Better play it cool.
“I’m good. What’s up with you?”
He doesn’t reply. I see the shoes fidget. The sound of weight shifting on the toilet. I don’t catch his eyes but I can feel them watching me through the bathroom door slit.
“I don’t know. Some dude’s talking to me. Hold on.”
I get out of there.
Kati and Logan are sipping beers, laughing over some shared joke that must have been borne in the past 3 minutes.
They see my face.
“What’s up?”
“Some guy on the toilet was talking to me.”
I pause. I’m going to come off really dumb in this story.
“Well, I thought he was talking to me.”
“He was on the phone, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
They double over laughing. I motion to the server and point at our drinks with the universal “another round?” face. He nods and scurries away.